Doesn't sledging hurt anyone?

Michael Jeh in Cricinfo

 

Who decides what the line is and when it is crossed?  © Getty Images

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"You might be a lone voice but keep at it and especially at youngsters. Tell them that sledging does not make them better cricketers, and definitely not better men."

My recent piece, trying to understand the tenuous link between sledging and manhood, between trash talk and improved performance, attracted lots of feedback, much of it offline, to my own website or private email. The encouraging message above came from one of cricket's true greats, someone who would probably feature in an all-time World XI. He played (and tamed) the very best cricketers of his era, so his comments carry some weight because they come from someone who succeeded at the highest level. 

Jimmy Anderson attributes some of his bowling skill to also being a skilled sledger, although I'm not convinced he understands that merely doing something regularly, no matter how tasteless, equates to necessarily being proficient at this dubious dark art.

What intrigues me about this debate is the complete unwillingness of anyone to admit that sledging affects them adversely. It flies against machismo to admit that it actually gets to you, but the same held true about admitting to depression; fortunately we have now moved beyond that immaturity and many are willing to confront this issue with courage, by speaking out. No one in the England camp has dared to concede that sledging gets under their skin, but curiously they have asked the Australians to refrain from making comments about Jonathan Trott. Why? If sledging is irrelevant and doesn't penetrate your veneer, what does it matter what they say about Trott, your wife, your mum or whatever? It doesn't affect you, remember? And Trotty's not even there to hear it, and even if he was, it didn't affect him either (apparently).

The Australians have long held this view, but nonetheless they took deep offence when Andrew Symonds was allegedly called a monkey. Not just Symonds but even the other so-called "hard men" got involved, though they regularly engaged in "banter" that might have caused equal hurt to other professional colleagues. How can you have your cake and eat it too? If on-field sledging doesn't hurt anyone, what does it really matter what is said? Or are they now admitting that it does actually cut to the bone but no one's actually going to be man enough admit it?

Of course words hurt. We wouldn't be human if they didn't. In the violence-prevention work I do, it is a clearly established truth that there is a clear continuum from verbal to physical violence. The Test cricketer quoted above thinks it is a matter of time before we'll have a physical confrontation on the field, unless we just revert to playing the ball and not the man. See Warne v Samuels or Styris v Johnson as recent examples of those lines almost being crossed. So at the risk of being vilified, I'll prosecute this side of the debate and wait for the vitriol that will inevitably follow.

Just this week in Australian sport, we have a case of a star AFL player who is alleged to have broken a team-mate's jaw outside an LA nightclub, an incident that began with insults being thrown. So there's the first bit of evidence linking the continuum from verbal to physical. These men are accustomed to sledging (and being sledged) on the field but they can't cop it off the field? Another man died on the Sunshine Coast, after being bashed outside a nightclub a few days ago, an incident triggered by verbal violence that spilled over into the physical realm. I could go on but the evidence is so overwhelming that it is hardly necessary.

Sunday's Australian Open golf was a magnificent sporting spectacle. Neither Adam Scott or Rory McIlroy needed to abuse each other to prove their manhood

Those who argue that the sporting field is a special place, immune from the normal rules, risk blurring the reality. Some of the rubbish that is spoken on the field, if repeated on the streets, especially when combined with alcohol and male bravado, can lead to tragic consequences if one of the parties doesn't quite buy into the axiom that what happens on the field stays on the field. Look at the case of David Hookes - on the field, the sort of language he allegedly used was deemed acceptable, but outside a restaurant late at night, angry words can precipitate an unnecessary tragedy. Even sportsmen sometimes forget that they have crossed the white line.

Another great irony, pointed out by an ESPNcricinfo reader, was that both Mitchell Johnson and David Warner were sporting moustaches as part of the Movember charity, aimed at shining a torch on the dark corners of men's health issues (including depression) when Warner, especially, targeted Trott's precarious situation. Warner will argue (truthfully) that he was unaware of Trott's personal demons, but isn't that the point? Depression is a disease that is often hidden and masked; men, especially, have difficulty owning up to it until someone or something pushes one button too many. There is more to being a real man than being able to grow a moustache for charity.

The notion that sledging is okay so long as players know not to cross the line is ludicrous. What is that line, who agreed to it, does it change from day to day and from person to person? I've been racially insulted on the cricket field hundreds of times but that line of abuse just washes over me (when you've got a face like mine, anything that draws attention away from that is a bonus!). It clearly got under Symonds' nose, though, despite him not being averse to dishing it out himself. Each day is different, things change depending on form, personal circumstances and the dark demons that haunt men in their private moments. Will the ICC now get captains to exchange a list of acceptable sledging topics when they exchange team lists at the toss? "Don't mention XYZ's wife this week because she is ill, but his daughter is fine so that's okay. Check again tomorrow for a family health update."

We've already seen how one of the worst serial sledgers of our time, Glenn McGrath, reacted when Ramnaresh Sarwan mentioned McGrath's sick wife (who Sarwan most likely didn't know was sick) in response to some ugly words from McGrath. So the very people who sledge mercilessly and reckon they can cop it have soft underbellies too? Who gets to choose what topics are off limits? Why not just play cricket as best you can and forget all the trash-talking?

It's not enough to say that men need this artificial fillip to fire themselves up for heightened performance. There's no suggestion that Rafael Nadal or Roger Federer deal in this currency, yet they are playing for high stakes too, at the pinnacle of their sport. Sunday's Australian Open golf was a magnificent sporting spectacle; neither Adam Scott or Rory McIlroy needed to abuse each other to prove their manhood. Both athletes displayed a grace and dignity that in no way detracted from their manhood, yet they were locked in combat for 18 holes, playing shot for shot.

So why do some cricketers (and fans) still think that our great sport needs this? By all means bowl fast, bowl short, glare at the batsmen if you need to, but ask yourself honestly if this actually has any effect. It seems that no one admits to being affected by it but we're all swearing by it (literally) anyway. And then someone crosses that invisible line and all hell breaks loose and we act surprised, as if we didn't see this train smash coming. Cricket deserves more from us but I sometimes wonder if we deserve cricket.

Sledging is an art, and here are the secrets of it

HOWARD JACOBSON 

Friday 29 November 2013

You'll need a ripe vocabulary, an ear for cadence - and respect for your opponent

 

Today I write on “Sledging Considered As One of the Fine Arts”. Sledging, for those not familiar with the term, is the practice of on-field verbal intimidation much favoured by Australian cricketers though by no means confined to them. Every cricket team sledges, though some do it with more aplomb than others.

As with all aspects of sport, national character is the first determinant of success. The more refined and well-mannered the culture, the less accomplished its sledgers. I don’t say the corollary follows – I am too fond of Australia to put its love of vilification down to something primitive in the country’s psyche – but you only have to read Australia’s national poem, “The Bastard from the Bush” (“Fuck me dead, I’m Foreskin Fred, the Bastard from the Bush”), to see an essential connection between verbal violence and a remote colonial lifestyle.

That said, it’s important to place sledging in a tradition of insult-flinging to which even the most sophisticated literature owes a debt. Drama, we are told, originates in the sacrificial, propitiatory rituals of ancient communities. We put on a show for the gods and hope they applaud. Poetry originates in the impulse to exchange insults with fellow mortals. “Get back to where you come from, that’s somewhere in the bush” is how the Captain of the Push responds to the challenge to his authority thrown down by Foreskin Fred. “May the itching piles torment you, may corns grow on your feet,/ May crabs as big as spiders attack your balls a treat./ Then, when you’re down and out, and a hopeless bloody wreck,/ May you slip back through your arsehole, and break your bloody neck.”

Indistinguishable from the satisfaction of getting your own back, hurling abuse and imagining someone else’s suffering is the joy of deploying rhyme and rhythm. We never curse better than we curse in verse. Primary school playgrounds resound with the scurrilous ditties small children make up about one another. My best friend Martin Cartwright couldn’t leave the classroom without hearing “Farty Marty/ Spoils the party”. For years I had to put up with “Howardy Cowardy Custard/ Thinks his pants have rusted”. And a poor religious boy called Manny was yoked with such tireless invention and horrid ingenuity to fanny that his parents had finally to remove him from the school.

Flyting, it’s called in Scotland – where poets would formalise the loathing they felt for each other into a contest of invective strictly governed by the laws of poesy. “Come kiss my Erse,” was how the 16th-century poet Montgomerie began his assault on the poet Polwart. “Kiss the Cunt of the Cow,” Polwart retorted in kind. We can perhaps look forward to a resumption of such well-honed hostilities when the campaign for Scottish independence begins in earnest.

At carnival time in Trinidad, some of the country’s smartest poets, singers and comedians take to the stage to compete in Extempo War, an off-the-cuff battle of wits in which the grosser they are to one another, the more the audience likes it. Whether the Dozens – the game of dissing, snapping and toasting played on the streets of Harlem and St Louis – is an offspring of Extempo War I don’t know, but it seems likely. It values the same qualities of quickness of wit and coarse discourtesy.

Another name for it is Ya Mama – unmannerliness to one another’s mothers being part of the fun. “You wanna play the dozens, well the dozens is a game,” rhymed the comedian George Carlin, “But the way I fuck your mother is a goddam shame.”

Which is a bit ripe even for the Gabba where the Australian captain, Michael Clarke, was heard to say to say to an English player, “Get ready for a f****** broken arm.” I resort to asterisks, not because Clarke did, but because that was how most of the papers reported it. Myself, I think asterisks make what he said even worse. Clarke himself has a baby face, so his outburst appeared doubly shocking, but some among his team look as though they were born with asterisks in their mouths.

What concerns me most about this incident, however, is the placing of the expletive. What Flyters, Extempo Warriors and kids in the school playground all know is that word order matters. Put a fucking where a fucking shouldn’t be and you take fatally from the affront. “Get ready for a fucking broken arm,” doesn’t work for two reasons. 1: It doesn’t scan. And 2: The epithet’s misaligned; it’s not the “broken” you’re meant to be cursing but the “arm”.

I haven’t played much cricket myself. Table tennis was my game. But I was always careful at the table to be precise when I swore. Attentive to both the music and the meaning, I’d have said to my opponent, “Get ready for a broken fucking arm.” Except that I wouldn’t, of course, have said that because it’s pretty difficult to break someone’s arm with a celluloid ball measuring 40mm in diameter and weighing 2.7g.

This could be the reason so few words are exchanged between players in the course of a game of ping-pong. You look ridiculous issuing threats when you don’t have the equipment to carry them out. Or the will, come to that. Somewhere at the back of every table tennis player’s mind is the knowledge that your opponent is as sad as you are. Why compound the lack of self-esteem that made him a table tennis player in the first place?

So humanity comes into the equation after all. To sledge with style requires a ripe vocabulary, an ear for cadence, a fastidiousness as to the positioning of epithets and respect for your opponent. You want to topple him from high estate to low. You don’t want him down and out to start with. Australians don’t always get that.

How did sledging become a sign of manliness?

Michael Jeh in Cricinfo 

It's hard to compete with messages that say real men don't walk away from a fight © Getty Images

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The bubble. It's a buzzword in sport today. This morning I attended the media launch of a new book called Bubble Boys, by Michael Blucher, a prominent Brisbane identity in the sports media community and a respected mentor to many elite athletes, especially when it comes to the matter of brand perception and image management. The author ruefully claimed that the book was seven years in the making and out of date within ten minutes! He was referring, of course, to the Michael Clarke sledging incident and its impact on the Clarke brand. (Incidentally Clarke's previous manager Chris White was also at this book launch, a wise, decent man whose advice might serve Clarke well right now.)

Picking up the Australian, I then read Gideon Haigh's excellent piece, which also refers to the bubble, this time in reference to Jonathan Trott, and is proof that the best cricket writers need not necessarily have played Test cricket. A quality writer who has distinguished himself in the Test arena, Michael Atherton, added to my enjoyment of the morning newspaper with his erudite and informed perspective, made more poignant by his first-hand experience of playing (and being sledged) at this level. He cautiously chided all parties involved, reminding them that at the end of the day, this is still sport and it behooves us all to not lose sight of that amidst all the trash talk. 

Bubble Boys takes a balanced look at the pressures, both internal and external, perceived or real, that elite athletes have to now contend with. My professional life is centred firmly in this space, so I have some insights into bubble boys and it is with some caution that I offer my opinions on the fall-out from the Brisbane Test, conscious of my own personal leanings but not oblivious to the hard-nosed realities of modern warfare, which is what this Ashes series threatens to descend into unless both teams and the media change the mood.

For some, the series has come alive. For me, some of the joie de vivre has died. The cricket was high-quality but I prefer my sport, no matter what the stakes are, to be served in more genteel fashion. I expect the inevitable vitriol from some bloggers, but the tone of their response may just underscore the point I'm making - that sometimes players, media and fans lose sight of the raison d'etre of sport. If this is sport, it doesn't push my buttons, despite my proximity to and familiarity with the bubble boys.

The fact that England have now withdrawn into their shell and refuse to engage with the media is a sad indictment of where things are at. The media played its part in creating this siege mentality, especially the Brisbane tabloid that refused to name Stuart Broad in its reports. The players' behaviour in refusing to talk to the press makes a lie of their claims that sledging never affects them. Clearly words hurt. Or are they only impervious to on-field sledging? That the Ashes media coverage has descended into a race to the bottom, with players hiding behind headphones, is schoolboy stuff. It's like being sent to Coventry in some Enid Blyton boarding-school story.

Clarke is the ultimate bubble boy. Often misunderstood, carefully image-managed, groomed for the captaincy at a young age, living in a goldfish bowl (replete with supermodel female partners), reputation damaged by some team-mates, and now suddenly facing a new reality that is both ambrosia and arsenic. On one hand, his behaviour at the Gabba has been described as unbecoming of an Australian captain; on the other hand, his much-maligned reputation as a pretty boy, a metrosexual (whatever that is supposed to connote, presumably negative, as described in yesterday's Australian), a brand that hasn't resonated with the VB-swilling public - unlike how those of AB, Tubby, Tugga and Punter did - has now apparently been transformed: from pup to mongrel. And according to many, this is apparently the best thing for his image. It took a threatening expletive and a sanction from the ICC to get him into that club! His fantastic batting wasn't enough for us?

It's a concept that I struggle with personally, but I daresay I'm in the minority. I find it disturbing that we equate manhood and toughness with what we've just seen from the captain. The captain no less.

I've always been a Clarke supporter thus far, but not this time. The other main protagonists, Jimmy Anderson and David Warner, splendid cricketers both of them, played their part in the drama, but does that surprise anybody? Brand consistency they call it.

One of the programmes I run is called A Few Good Men, and it is aimed at getting the good men of sport (and there are many) to take a leadership role in confronting the growing problem of violence in society, specifically violence against women. To think that the national cricket captain is being praised in some quarters for enhancing his brand with a threat to someone to expect a "broken f***ing arm" just speaks to the hopelessness of trying to start a counter-revolution that flies in the face of what our sporting leaders are promoting, even if only in the context of a sporting sledge. It's hard to compete with messages that say real men don't walk away from a fight (the Australian rugby league coach implied as much recently when his star player was involved in a punch-up at the World Cup in Manchester).

Michael Vaughan was quoted today as saying that the Lillee-Thomson era was much worse, so there's nothing to worry about. That doesn't really address the core issue of whether we think it is edifying to watch our cricket stars behave like hooligans or not. Just because it has been worse in times gone by doesn't necessarily make it right. The penalties may vary but a wrong doesn't become a right because it's less bad.

Many people not familiar with the environment of professional sport shake their heads and wonder how this sort of behaviour can occur in what is effectively a workplace. Some of the invective hurled by both teams would constitute workplace harassment in most cases. At best, it would be seen as abysmal etiquette to colleagues or competitors. Yet in sport these bubble boys proudly sing the national anthem, represent their countries, are heroes to kids (and cash in handsomely for that), and then reckon that the rest of their behaviour can exist in a moral vacuum. Maybe sport does live in a bubble after all, and so do all those who work in this special industry

My ten-year-old son posed a question to which I had no definitive answer. It was in relation to a Powerpoint slide I use in my work on respect for women that goes something like this: A male librarian says, "We've agreed to put the magazines which are degrading to women out of the reach of children", to which the female librarian says, "I see. And how old do they have to be before degrading women is all right?" In the context of recent events involving verbal and physical violence, my son wanted to know about the shift from being told not to sledge, not to use foul language, not to threaten opponents, to these things suddenly being perceived as a positive sign of manhood. In junior sport, all of these are frowned on. Judging by the endorsement of the new, more masculine, Michael Clarke, my son wants to know when you go from being boy to man, where the sins of boyhood become the proud tattoos of manhood. The only answer I could offer him was that in our family there was no invisible line.

Leadership is turned upside down when grown men are excused for behaviour that would earn a young cricketer a suspension. We expect so much of our boys but should they display those same decent qualities in adulthood, society demands we burst that bubble. Bubble boys indeed!

Do nasty guys finish first?

Michael Jeh in Cricinfo

 

Surliness wouldn't change the scoreline for Clarke, would it?  © Getty Images

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I wonder which Michael Clarke we'll see at The Oval. If he's been reading any of the press from both sides of the world, he might be confused as to which persona to adopt as Australia try hard to avoid a 4-0 scoreline that won't really do justice to their fighting spirit and to his excellent leadership under duress.

Wayne Smith, writing in the Australian, was eloquent and informed in his analysis of Clarke's captaincy. Most good judges of cricket have applauded his attacking instincts in the field, clever bowling changes and innovative field placements. At the end of the day, though, two relatively evenly matched teams have contrived to produce a scoreline that reads 3-0, despite Clarke's captaincy, not because of it. The difference has been that when Australia have played poorly, they have done so badly enough to virtually surrender a game in a session. England's poor patches have been limited by some effective damage control to the extent where they haven't allowed the slide to become terminal. They have shown a bit more resolve in not allowing a mini-collapse or wayward bowling to spiral to the point where the game is irretrievable from that point on. 

The Times' Alan Lee took a different tack in his post-match analysis after the fourth Test. His view was that Clarke (and by association, Australia) needed to cultivate more mongrel and stop being such a "nice guy". The basic tenet of his piece was that Clarke was smiling too much and was not putting on enough of the Mr Nasty act. Clarke's apparent cheerfulness, perceived by many as a sign of dignity and good grace, was now being written up as possibly a reason why those Tests were compromised. Lee cited Ian Chappell's truculence and Allan Border's grumpiness as prime examples of Australian captains who were successful because they were curmudgeonly.

In my opinion this sort of simplistic analysis misses a few obvious truths that have everything to do with cricketing ability and very little to do with boorishness. The winning and losing of Test matches (any sporting contest for that matter) is primarily down to the superior ability of one team/individual in comparison to their opponents. Occasionally luck, weather, key injuries and umpiring decisions can change that destiny, but in the main it's usually down to who has the better cattle on the day. In this Ashes series, England started as deserved favourites and despite Australia's admirable tenacity (at times), the results have echoed that slight edge in the quality of the cricketers. No amount of cussing and frowning would necessarily have changed that.

Even the Chappell brothers, Rod Marsh and Dennis Lillee, renowned for being gristly opponents, couldn't do much when their teams were regularly overwhelmed by the West Indies of the late 1970s and early 1980s, including in World Series Cricket. That period was described by many as the emergence of the Ugly Australian (in a cricketing sense) as the history books portrayed them (although I was too young myself to tell if that tag was warranted or not), but that counted for very little when those fearsome West Indian fast bowlers were at their throats or when Viv Richards, Clive Lloyd, Gordon Greenidge et al were collaring formidable bowling attacks spearheaded by the Lillee Thomson and Pascoe. I can't see how being any nastier could have won them any more games. More runs and wickets might have helped, and that's what it boils down to.

Likewise Border. His prolific run-scoring feats, much of them accomplished with his back to the wall, was a function of his immense mental strength and no little amount of pure skill. Some of those brave innings against the likes of Michael Holding, Joel Garner and Malcolm Marshall were because he was supremely talented as a batsman, not because of the so-called Captain Grumpy tablets. Being grumpy didn't do much to change Australia's success in the early years of his captaincy. It was only in 1989, when Mark Taylor, Geoff Marsh, Steve Waugh and Terry Alderman all clicked together that he won back the Ashes. He was probably just as cantankerous in 1986-87 and fat lot of good that did him when Fat Gatt's tourists took Australia to the cleaners on the back of Chris Broad's purple patch.

I've been watching bits of the Caribbean Premier League recently and Kieron Pollard's ridiculous on-field antics are a prime case in point. In two recent matches, he has deliberately instigated aggro with two of his West Indian team-mates (Lendl Simmons and Marlon Samuels) to the point where it is clear that his infractions with other players over the years cannot be written off as temporary moments of poor manners. Yet, in both those CPL games, he was comprehensively clean-bowled for nought. So much for the theory that aggressive behaviour drives superior performance. All the trash-talking and sledging that he initiated could not change the fact that on those two occasions, despite being Captain Obnoxious, his team lost both games, and his sum contribution was zero from three balls. His team did not benefit from that style of captaincy but they might have appreciated some runs and wickets instead.

If you look back to the deliveries that Clarke received in the first innings at Trent Bridge and the second innings in Durham, it wouldn't have mattered if he was the grumpiest bloke on the planet or not - those balls were almost unplayable. Well, actually, they were unplayable. Stuart Broad's mojo moments in Durhamwere out of Clarke's control. An impersonation of Chappelli or AB at their curmudgeonly best could not have altered that. Great bowling, some indifferent shots, and one team playing better than the other - that's what decides Test matches, not some rubbish theories about standing at first slip and smiling too much. It's an insult to these guys, hardened professional cricketers who are giving 100% at all times, to suggest that it's as easy as turning on the "nasty tap" and winning becomes a whole lot easier.

Cricketers are made different. Andre Nel looked like he might have been born snarling at the midwife, and that's the way he played his cricket too. His behaviour rarely changed, even when Ricky Ponting was giving him a touch-upat the SCG in 2006. He went for 6.5 runs per over in the second innings but never changed his abrasive manner. If it was as easy as just getting angrier or nastier to get wickets, why wasn't he a world-beater?

I'm mates with Gladstone Small and you couldn't meet a nicer bloke if you walked to the ends of the earth. Both Small and Nel averaged about 33 with the ball in Test cricket (Small's batting average was six runs higher) and you couldn't think of two blokes with similar records who could be any more different in terms of bile and invective hurled at batsmen. So what does that prove about the connection between success and savage intent?

The funny thing about even those players who swear (literally) by their tactic of being deliberately obnoxious as a strategy is that if you ask them if they have ever been put off by someone acting aggressively towards them, they laugh it off disdainfully. It's as if they truly believe that only their sledging, only their body language and only their dark moods, have the power to put others off their game. They don't admit to being affected by such things themselves. Talk about living in fool's paradise. Try sledging Jacques Kallis and see if that works - the guy bats as if he is hypnotised.

You can't manufacture nastiness where it doesn't exist. Clarke's just not one of those personality types. Simply getting him to stop smiling ruefully and keeping life in perspective ain't gonna change a thing. When this team gets a bit more experience and has a bit of luck, he might win a game or two. I sincerely doubt if, as Mr Lee puts it, "he stopped smiling and developed some nastiness" whether that would make the slightest difference. Until he has a winning team at his disposal, his options are limited, so he may as well show some grace under fire without fear of being labelled soft by any of his more hard-bitten predecessors. As Lee concedes, "He has led his vanquished men with dignity and inventiveness." That's not something to be ashamed of.

Doosra: Is it really a question of integrity?

Posted by Michael Jeh 1 day, 5 hours ago in Michael Jeh



John Inverarity has bowled me a doosra today with his comments about the doosra and integrity. I’m genuinely not sure which way to play this one.



That he is a gentleman and a scholar there can be no doubt. His reputation as man of decency and integrity allows him the privilege of making a comment such as this with some immunity from anyone looking to take cheap shots at him. From that perspective, reading his words carefully, I can draw no hint of mischief or hypocrisy in his brave statement. Perhaps a long bow could be drawn to infer that he is pointing fingers at some bowlers but I genuinely think that to do so would be to do the gentleman an injustice. Clearly he believes that the doosra has the potential to corrupt bowling actions and he would prefer to see the Australian bowling contingent shy away from that technique. Fair enough too if that is his genuine belief.



On the other hand, I also believe that it may be a bit naïve on the part of Australian cricket, if Inverarity is speaking on behalf of the institution rather than as an individual, to encourage a policy that is clearly going to disadvantage Australia to this extent. Put simply, the doosra is arguably the most potent bowling weapon in modern cricket. Especially in limited overs cricket, it is probably the single most influential factor in giving bowling teams a sniff of hope. The fast bowlers have proved woefully inadequate in coming up with anything new to stem the flow of boundaries. In fact, their skill level has actually dropped some considerable level, evidenced by the steady diet of full tosses that are served up at least once an over when under pressure. So the doosra and the variations that followed (carrom ball) can lay claim to being the most influential game-changer. When a bowler with a good doosra comes on to bowl, I immediately sit up and take notice because there is always the chance that a game can be turned on its head. Since Shane Warne led the new spin revolution, nothing has excited me more in the bowling stakes than the perfection of the various types of doosra.







That is why I am slightly flummoxed by Inverarity’s stance on it. Whilst not necessarily agreeing with his inference that it may lead to illegal actions, I respect his integrity enough to accept his point in the spirit it was intended. However, to encourage Australian spinners to not learn the art form is possibly putting principle before pragmatism. That in itself is admirable if it were applied universally but no country, least of all Australia, has ever applied this morality on a ‘whole of cricket’ basis so what makes the doosra so special? Is Inverarity suggesting that Australian cricket should now make decisions on the basis of integrity or is the doosra singled out as the one issue where we apply the Integrity Test? If so, is it any coincidence that we don’t really have anyone who can bowl the doosra with any great proficiency and will that change on the day we discover our own Doosra Doctor?



All countries have their own inconsistencies to be ashamed of so I’m not suggesting that Australia is alone in this regard. Far from it. Living in Australia, I just get to see a lot more of the local cricketing news so I’m better qualified to make comment on Australian examples. A few examples spring to mind….let’s think back to the times when we prepared turning tracks in the 1980s to beat the West Indies. A fair enough tactic too so long as there’s no complaints if other teams prepare pitches to suit their strengths. Similarly, I recall a period during the late 1990s when Australian teams insisted on having their fielder’s word accepted when a low catch had been taken. That theory worked OK until Andy Bichel claimed a caught and bowled off Michael Vaughan in the 2002/03 Ashes series when replays showed it had clearly bounced in front of him. I know Bich quite well and he is as honest as they come so it was genuinely a case of him thinking it had carried when in fact it hadn’t. Around that same period, Justin Langer refused to walk when caught by Brian Lara at slip, despite the Australian mantra that a fielder’s word was his bond. They come no more honourable than Lara in this regard so what happened to the principle? Like all matters of convenience, it is admirable but rarely works when it becomes an inconvenient truth.



And that is the source of my confusion with linking the doosra to the question of integrity. I’m not convinced that the integrity issue will stand the test of time if Australia accidentally discovers a home-grown exponent of this delivery. Likewise the issue of the switch-hit. Now that Dave Warner plays it as well as anyone, are we opposed to this too on integrity grounds? If Warner hadn’t mastered the shot, would that too be something that we would not encourage because it perhaps bent the spirit of cricket?



Only time will tell whether Inverarity’s wisdom and guidance will be mirrored by those in the organisation with perhaps less integrity and more pragmatism in their veins. I suspect it will take more than one decent man to stop an irresistible force. His motives may be pure indeed but I suspect that this is one issue that will turn the other way!